


Shadowsverse Ficlets

by Mek



Series: Shadowsverse [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Cuddling & Snuggling, Danny Knows, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Emissary in Training Stiles Stilinski, F/F, Graduate Student Derek, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Pre-Femslash, Pregnancy, Shadowsverse, Witch Caitlin, Wolf Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-20 01:52:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1492348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mek/pseuds/Mek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlets that take place at various times in the Shadowsverse. \o/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For [hales-emissary](http://hales-emissary.tumblr.com/) who wanted sterek + wolf derek. :)
> 
> For those who I haven’t yammered on to about the shadowsverse (which is pretty much everybody but three people…), a few years after [Loose Threads](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1374430) Stiles ends up training under Dima, an emissary for the Volkov Pack.

On a good day Stiles is pretty quick to wake, but when his muscles are aching from the previous day’s training, his nose is practically frozen, and Derek is pressed to his back like his own personal heater while they’re both cocooned in a mound of blankets…well…Stiles is inclined to abort the whole process before he begins.

Both his and Derek’s phones begin to vibrate though, rattling against the rickety metal desk across the room. Stiles just groans and wriggles deeper under the blankets and more firmly back into the curve of Der—oh hey…that’s fur against his bare back.

"Dude. Shifting to get out of having to get out of bed to answer the phone is such a dick move," Stiles mumbles fondly not even close to being serious. He glances over his shoulder and is greeted with the rare view of Derek in his full wolf form. Derek cracks an eye at him and then squirms a bit until his muzzle rests against the side of Stiles’ neck. Stiles laughs softly, raises a hand to scratch the top of Derek’s head, and asks, "Heat go out again?"

He gets a distressed whine in response, which he’s gonna take as a yes. That means that the missed calls are from the rest of the Volkov Pack telling them to get their asses over to Dima’s who’s got independent heat. In theory, that’s what they should be doing but it’s been a fucking long and hard week. Stiles scrunches his face up, then mumbles fuck it, and tosses the blankets over their heads and turns around to face Derek. Derek’s eyes light up and cast a faint blue glow in their little blanket den. 

Stiles reaches out and runs his fingers through Derek’s dark, thick fur from flank to shoulder. “Whaddya say we hide out here for ten more minutes before we face the world?”

Derek just snuffles, closes his eyes, and presses their foreheads together.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny reaches across the table and holds out his hand. ”Give me your phone.”
> 
> Derek arches an eyebrow but complies. 
> 
> When Danny thumbs the power button and the home screen instantly pops up he goes still for a moment and then raises his head to glare at Derek. “You know, if I were a supernatural I’d do simple things to cover my ass like, oh I don’t know, lock my phone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been pretty table flippy about the talk regarding Danny being written out of Teen Wolf, especially with the reasons that have been given. Anyhow, I figure I should put my money where my mouth is. Below is a draft of a scene from probably mid way through Shadowsverse (you don’t really need the context though). And FWIW, this is just one place in the 'verse where Danny’s computer skillz come into play (and several of those places are in a big way).
> 
> Implied Sterek.

Danny reaches across the table and holds out his hand. ”Give me your phone.”

Derek arches an eyebrow but complies. 

When Danny thumbs the power button and the home screen instantly pops up he goes still for a moment and then raises his head to glare at Derek. “You know, if I were a super natural I’d do simple things to cover my ass like, oh I don’t know, lock my phone. Let me guess, your password to your email is stiles or how about alpha beta omega?”

Derek rolls his eyes and says “Give me a little credit,” because he can’t outright deny the last one. Hey, at least he’d replaced the a’s with 4’s and e’s with 3’s, alright? But, with the way Danny smirks Derek’s got a feeling he already knows that. Derek is suddenly much less comfortable with Danny having his phone. Especially when Danny pulls out a cable, a thumbdrive, and another phone (that looks strikingly similar to Derek’s) from his bag along with small laptop that looks clunky and utilitarian. 

"What are you doing?" Derek demands.

Danny just scoffs and mumbles “Sure, now you ask,” as he plugs the thumbdrive into the laptop and presses the power button. He waits a few moments, types, then connects Derek’s phone. Waits, types. Waits, types. Waits, types. Danny finally nods and looks up.

"It’s come to my attention that certain organizations, some government, some not, are starting to take way too much interest in the supernatural side of life. With our pack currently being spread out across three continents I’m swapping everyone’s tech out for devices that I’ve personally hardened. All your text messages to each other will be encrypted, as well as your calls if you use a specific app. All your net access will go through a chain of servers where each metaphorical link knows where to forward your traffic but it doesn’t know where your traffic came from."

"So our internet activity can’t be traced back to us?" Derek asks, eyes narrowed, and mind still processing the information dump.

A small smile cants Danny’s lips which makes him look more than bit smug. “Pretty much. There’s a few other things that will make your communications even more secure, but I’ll spare you the details. Just know that certain countries won’t give a damn about the way your phone is configed. Other’s will throw you in a hole and label you an enemy of the state.”

"Right. Because we need more enemies. Especially ones with standing armies," Derek says dryly, right back into the realm of ‘not comfortable with Danny having his phone.’

Danny just waves his hand dismissively and turns back to his laptop. ”Relax. Just let me know your travel plans and I’ll either tell you to ditch the phone or walk you through how to conceal it.”

"Scott approved this?" Derek asks, more than a little bit disbelieving. 

Danny looks up then, a wicked glint in his eyes, and smirks. “What makes you think I gave him a choice?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cora and Caitlin pre-femslash! Takes place about ten years after they all graduate HS.

Caitlin is rapidly approaching a zombie-brain-and-jello-limbs state of existence.  She’s halfway through that horrible time of year when for three weeks or so roller derby and burlesque overlap and she’s out every night at one practice or another.  To top it off, the moon starts waxing in the early AM and she really wants to get that “Building Bridges” spell off the ground.  She’s been prepping ever since talks (thankfully) fell through six months ago with that dumb Iowa Pack and it’s dumb draconian arranged-marriages-to-strengthen-boodlines dumbness.

Dumb.

Everything is so seriously, very, incredibly dumb.

Especially Caitlin.

At some point during derby drills she realized that she’d left her bag-o-witchy supplies that she needs for the spell at “Ink Guns and Broomsticks,” the tattoo and magical goods shop she co-owns with Stiles.  The shop she is now standing just a few steps inside of, utterly dumbstruck , completely gross, and hating on the fates just a little bit.  It’s one thing to be told in passing during the Inventory Weekend of Doom (in which everyone participates, even the Sheriff) that Derek’s little sis, who is six months preggers, is coming to live with the boys and a whole ‘nother thing to stumble into her sphere of existence.

Because holy shit.

Cora Hale is breathtaking.

And devastatingly gorgeous.

And terrifying.

And by ‘terrifying’ she means freaking amazing.

While most women at six months knocked-up have a glow about them Cora is more like a mama spider with all her itty bitties piled on her back: facilitating, intimidating as hell, and strangely stunning.  Cora hasn’t even moved to acknowledge Caitlin, rather, she’s remained sitting behind one of the display cases.  As hunched over as she can be, she’s intensely focused on drawing quick angry lines on some tracing paper and Caitlin is mesmerized.

“Can I help you?” Cora grits out, which sounds a lot like ‘fuck off’  and that she’s being forced to talk the customer service talk but god dammit she’ll make it known that she isn’t happy about it.  Then again, with five minutes until closing Caitlin can’t really blame her.  Before Caitlin can answer though, Cora stops drawing, scrunches up her nose, and visibly scents the air.  Then she slowly lifts her head, one eyebrow arched, and says,  “So you’re the witch my brother’s idiot is in business with.”  Something about her eyebrow game is so reminiscent of Derek’s that it kicks Caitlin’s brain and body back into a functioning state.

“And you must be the sister,“ Caitlin teases as she walks towards Cora, “of my business partner’s idiot,” she adds a wink for good measure and Cora just kinda snorts and rolls her eyes before looking back down at what she was working on.  Caitlin only means to take glance at the drawing but what she sees forces her to suck in a sharp shallow breath.  Electric tingles jump to life along her palms and fingertips as her witchy senses snap wide freaking awake and mainline what little she has in her energy reserves.  When Cora aggressively shoves back from the case to stand, her motion and the clatter of the stool tipping over seem so very far away.

“How did you…where did you…do you know what this is?” Caitlin stammers, eyes still tracing the intricate twist and turns of the black ink.

“Not really and I don’t really care,” Cora replies, her words are clipped and tone tight and Caitlin’s been around enough ‘wolves long enough to know that Cora’s holding back her fangs. _Shit shit shit._

“I’m sorry, no! Like what you’ve done?  This is totally incredible,” Caitlin says quickly and hazards a glance up.  She licks her suddenly dry lips and asks, “Can I touch it?”

Cora’s looking at her now like she’s grown another head which is better than the “I’m gonna fuck you up” vibe she had just a moment ago. “Whatever,” Cora replies and Caitlin reaches out before the word is fully formed.  She touches the design with the index and ring fingers of her right hand and lets loose just enough energy to light up not only Cora’s sketch, but also the seal on the piece of paper under it.  

The seal for Caitlin’s spell that she’s been working on for months.

Together the two designs draw in her energy and pulse back and forth in time to her heartbeat.  The golds and reds that emanate from her art rise up to swirl and mix with the blues and violets dropping down from Cora’s until it’s a seamless transition of colors and the pieces find a harmony that is rich in it’s resonance.  It’s all so wildly insanely above and beyond anything Caitlin has ever seen or done before that her eyes skip from one point of their conjoined designs to the next, tremors and laughter starting to bubble in her chest.

“ _Holy shit_ ,” Caitlin whispers reverently and she know she’s grinning like an idiot but she can’t help herself, “How did you—“

“ _I don’t know_ ,” Cora cuts her off.  There’s a thread of panic that chokes Cora’s words and tears Caitlin gaze away from the new and improved seal.  They lock eyes and when Caitlin doesn’t say anything Cora snaps, “I’m a fucking werewolf!  I can’t do magic!”

Cora’s vehemence startles free the laughter Caitlin’s been trying oh so hard to keep in. “Well, babe, you might not be able to sing,” Caitlin tells her, “but you write a damn fine verse.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted wolf!derek getting some snuggles so I wrote some wolf!derek getting some snuggles. :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place about five to six years after Stiles et al graduate HS. In shadowsverse Derek is at UC Davis working on a Master's in linguistics and pretty much spends the week at Davis and the weekends back in BH.

Derek wakes slowly, surfacing the act of two steps towards conciseness parried by one step back towards bone deep relaxation. The rhythmic sweep and gentile tug of Stiles’ carding his fingers through Derek’s fur from front shoulder to flank is such a delicious feeling that Derek can’t bother to muster any shame as he rolls over onto his back to offer up his belly. 

Stiles huffs a laugh and shifts on the bed so that Derek’s head and neck rest on Stiles’ abdomen while the rest of Derek is nestled between the splay of his legs. Derek happily wriggles a little bit just because he can and it elicits another laugh from Stiles. The sound fond and gentile and so very welcome after having gone through two weeks without while Stiles was off doing Emissary things with Scott out in Iowa.

“Donno how you managed to do it big guy, but even in wolf form you look disheveled as hell and beyond burnt out,” Stiles’ tone is teasing but his scent is laced with a spicy bite. It took Derek way too long to figure out that that bite is tied to Stiles’ protective streak over the people he loves.

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek and hugs him tightly for a moment before he buries his fingers into Derek’s fur and pets him in long sure strokes, returning to the soothing rhythm he’d set earlier. And when he adds a bit of scratch with his nails as he draws both hands back up Derek’s belly and chest, Derek just sighs into the heady swell of endorphins that wash over his sleepy mind. Sometimes he wonders how he ever thought it was a good idea to go back to grad school and finish out his Master’s. The last three weeks have been the absolute hell of trying to get his thesis proposal completed and signed off on. At the same time he’s been dealing with a prof that’s riding out his last few years until retirement and is, as Stiles puts it, “a fucking four year old who throws temper tantrums and gives zero fucks about the health and well being of his TAs.”

“Shhh,” Stiles hushes and brings one of his hands up to cup the front of Derek’s throat that’s vibrating with a faint growl Derek didn’t even realize he was making. He cuts it out immediately and whines an apology. “It’s alright,” Stiles assure him as he smooths his hand up higher to cradles Derek’s jaw and tips his head back. While Stiles’ fingers scratch lightly at the short coarse fur under Derek’s chin, his lips place a soft kiss on the top of Derek’s muzzle.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at [talesfromthemek](http://talesfromthemek.tumblr.com/) \o/


End file.
